One Last Phone Call
by Mlle M's
Summary: She swallowed, waiting for him to say goodbye; time was in the essence, in both their cases, yet she couldn't bring herself to say it first. She could still hear him breathing hard. But the next words that escaped his mouth weren't the ones she had braced herself to hear. "Good luck, Teresa, I love you." What if Lisbon got to answer Jane's phone call in 6x08?
1. Goodbye Is the Hardest Thing

**A/N: Hey everyone! So this is my first very own fanfiction, I'm pretty excited and nervous about it. I admit I probably must've re-read this piece around 20 times before deciding to post it... **

**Anyways! ****This idea wouldn't leave my head: what if Lisbon had been abble to answer her phone at the end of the Red John episode? Would Jane've told her the truth about his feelings then? Because it seems like our friend needs to be confronted to extreme situations to even consider expressing how he truly feels (bomb tapped to Lisbon's chest, fake shooting Lisbon, Lisbon on a plane about to leave his life forever... Just saying).**

**Disclamer: I don't own The Mentalist (not even in my dreams, *sigh*)**

* * *

Her phone rang from the evidence bag, making all four of them jump.

The FBI agent supervising them, Mallows, had received a call from agent Abbott and had left the room, not without casting them a warning glare. Yet none of them had moved, or had even exchanged a word; the situation they were in was quite overwhelming. Was it only two days ago when the bullpen was still buzzing with agents, her team glued to their desks working harder than ever to catch Red John? It sounded surreal, especially when the dark and empty room they were currently in didn't feel one bit like the one it was days ago. Nothing felt right anymore.

_"You knew this day was coming. It's here. "_

And only now was she fully taking in the meaning of Jane's words. She had waited, anticipated, dreaded, and even longed for this day to come, had tried to imagine every possible scenario, but nothing could've prepared her for what she was living now. It was as if all hell had broken loose and they were all trapped here, alone as ever and as useless as could be. Nothing was ever going to be the same again, and turning back was not an option.

The second ring had her crashing back to reality, at the realization of who might be trying to call her. Cho, Grace and Rigsby had all raised their heads, knowing how crucial this phone call could be.

"Take the phone, Boss, I'll watch," Rigsby said in an urgent voice as he rose to his feet and stalked to where Mallows had left.

Cho and Grace stood up too as she quickly turned to the table and tried to extract her phone from the evidence bag with her shaking hands. It's Jane, she told herself. If it wasn't him then...it... She couldn't even bring herself to think of the other man who could be calling her; the same man who had called Patrick with her phone several weeks ago.

Her head spun. She hadn't registered pressing the answering button, or even pressing her phone to her ear for that matter, but when she heard the familiar voice of her consultant saying "Lisbon, it's me.", she found herself gripping the table with her free hand, her legs suddenly failing her. She released a breath she didn't know she had been holding, and found her vision blurred with tears of relief.

"Jane," she said softly, but loud enough to be heard by her old team.

"It's over, it's done," he said breathlessly. "I just want you to know I'm OK."

Lisbon closed her eyes, thanking God. He was fine, he was alive, and that's all that mattered right now.

"Thank you for calling." Her voice caught in her throat, because she knew what this meant. This was goodbye.

"I'll miss you," he said in a hoarse voice, confirming her thoughts.

"I'll miss you too," she replied in the same tone of voice as his, eyes burning with unshed tears.

"Tell Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt I never would've made it without them. Without you. And that I'm sorry, for everything."

"I will," she assured him, glancing at them. Her voice cracked at her next words, knowing it was probably the last ones she'd exchange with him. "Take care of yourself, Jane, will you?"

"I will," he promised her back.

She swallowed, waiting for him to say goodbye; time was in the essence, in both their cases, yet she couldn't bring herself to say it first. She could still hear him breathing hard. But the next words that escaped his mouth weren't the ones she had braced herself to hear.

"Good luck, Teresa, I love you," he choked, and she sucked in a shaking breath, her heart clenching painfully in her chest as her pulse quickened at his declaration. He was finally admitting what he had taken back a year ago.

A single, lonely tear slid down her cheek as she diverted her gaze to the roof before closing her eyes shut.

"I love you too," she murmured back softly, intimately, lovingly.

She opened her eyes again as another tear escaped. She firmly held her phone against her ear a couple of seconds, listening to Jane's ragged breathing as he was doing the same, neither of them wanting to hang up. Then suddenly Rigsby's voice shattered the moment, his urgent "Boss," making her jerk her head towards the entrance as Mallows' footsteps could be heard. She had to hang up now, had to let go; but Jane had probably heard Rigsby as the next sound she registered was the monotone beep signaling the line was dead. He had hung up. And just like that, Patrick Jane was gone, for God knew how long this time.

She slowly lowered her phone, then bowed her head as she wiped the moisture off her cheeks. As she straightened up she met Grace's watery eyes, and quickly focused on something else. Pity was the last goddamn thing she needed right now. Lisbon was so lost in her own thoughts that she barely registered Mallows coming in, but only turned around as he barked "What the hell happened here?"

Only then did she realize she still had her phone gripped tightly in her right hand.

* * *

**A/N: I'd love it if you shared your thoughts about this, what went and what didn't. Also, should I leave it as an OS or continue until they reunite again?**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. The First Letter

**A/N: You readers are amazing. 9 reviews ?! I wasn't expecting so many, especially for a first fanfic. THANK YOU so much, they all meant the world to me and were a great confidence boost. I really wasn't sure if this would please, if my writting was good enough...**

**I also want to thank every person who favorited and followed this story. I hope the next chapters will be up to your expectations.**

**Replies to the anonymous reviewers:**

**Guest 1: That's the plan :) I'll do my best. Hope you'll like the next chapters!**

**AliahMPS: I don't know about the perfect part, but I'm flattered you liked the first chapter so much! Thank you for reviewing :)**

**Guest 2: I am! Glad you found it worthy to continue :)**

**Wofwofdoggy: Thank you so much for your review, it meant the world to me! I'm elated you found it worth reading! Your compliments were unbelievably kind, and I hope you find the next chapters worthy of your time :)**

**Disclaimer: Last time I checked my inbox, there were many from Fanfiction concerning this story, but none from Bruno Heller telling me he was lending me the rights to The Mentalist. Still waiting, though.**

* * *

_Dear Lisbon,_

_I hope this finds you well. I know the FBI is watching your every move, so I had to be careful. Pete or Sam must've explained how they'd proceed to sneak my letters to you; I'll try to write as often as is possible without raising any suspicion._

_With this letter I wanted to reassure you about my well-being; I'm taking care of myself, just like I promised. I'm alright - well, as fine as I could be, at least. I miss you. Waking up knowing I won't see you is harder than I ever imagined._

_Life as a fugitive is incredibly lonely. I already miss speaking English. My Spanish accent is "__malissimo"__ like the locals say when they think I'm not listening. Being understood is an underrated pleasure; and no one could ever understand me the way you do, Lisbon, in every sense of the word._

_I found the shell on one of my walks along the beach. It's a cowry. I wanted you to have a small piece of the island, something to remember me by, and found it to be quite fitting. Every time you'll listen to it, you should be able to hear the same ocean I see, hear and feel nearly every day._

_I've been meaning to apologize for what I'm putting you through. I wish I could be by your side now more than ever, because I can't imagine how hard this must be for you, losing the job that was your life for ten years. I will never thank you enough for everything you've done for me. I can't put into words how much you've moved me, how you've changed me. You stood by me even when I least deserved it, but those were the moments when I really needed it._

_I also deeply regret admitting the truth of how I feel before hanging up; I'm not taking the words back, not this time. But I had no right to tell them to you, Teresa, given the circumstances. That's why I want you to promise me something: promise me that you'll move on with your life, that you won't wait for me, because even I don't know when - or if - I'll be coming back. You more than anyone deserve happiness, and I'm not in measure to give that to you right now. I'm fairly certain that you'll find it somewhere else; you've proven that you could take care of yourself without any help from me time and time again._

_I want you to know that I really want you to be happy; and that is the most important thing to me, that you do what makes you happy. Okay?_

_I love you,_

_U no hoo_

* * *

**A/N: I know this is short, but I wanted Jane's first letter to Lisbon to be seperate from the rest of the narration. It deserved a special spot, you know?**

**I hope you liked it, I spilled my guts out for that one! ****I promise chapter 3 will be longer. I feel bad for this chapter being so short, so here's a sneek peak of what's coming up next:**

* * *

_Things with Josh had been nice and easy; and so the weeks had turned into months. But she found that time couldn't heal all the wounds. She still thought about Jane, too often for someone who was in a relationship with another man; and still treasured his arriving letters more than she should. So maybe she hadn't completely moved on; but at least she was trying._


	3. Moving On Doesn't Erase the Past

**A/N: Well, this chapter took me longer to write than I expected. I also have important exams coming up all week next week (my Bac for the french readers) as it is my last year in High School, so I was pretty distracted! I'm also sorry to say that I probably won't be able to post the next chapter before two weeks, because of said exams.**

**So this chapter is how I see Lisbon coping with Jane's absence... And you'll meet Josh. I almost called him Marcus, but that would've been too weird.**

**Replies:**

**Guest 1:**** I'm glad you're following this! I never know with the guest reviews :) I hope you'll like this chapter... And I'm planning on reuniting them maybe at the end of the next chapter, maybe. It's hard to say for sure, because I might have other ideas popping in my head by the time I write it.**

**finolagrace: Thank you for your kind review! It means a lot. I wanted to send you a PM but apparently you blocked that function... So I'm thanking you here :)**

**Disclamer: Still don't own the Mentalist, but who knows, you should never say never! (Who am I kidding)**

* * *

Lisbon didn't think she could handle it any longer.

She was tired of being alone, tired of feeling utterly miserable and useless. Tired of spending her time mourning the not so old days at the CBI, when her team was still reunited... The days when Jane was still by her side. And most of all, she was tired of longing for him, a man that was literally out of her reach, and might never be again. Two months after Jane had left and still she spent too many sleepless nights worrying about him; hell, he could be dead right now for all she knew. Those were her worst nightmares, the ones in which she couldn't save him; the ones that had her waking up with a jolt in ungodly hours, sweating, shaking and breathless, tears running down her cheeks. She was wasting up inside; and the worst part was that she knew it, knew what she was doing to herself. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt could see it behind every facade she put up for them, behind her forced smiles; yet there was nothing they could do.

She moved to the Washington, the Evergreen State, not only because she didn't have a job in California anymore, but in an attempt to make the pain lessen. Sacramento held too many memories that she both cherished and hated.

But she soon realized that even a clean break couldn't heal her wounds; they were too deep. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't forget. Her job as a sheriff wasn't helping either. The worst case she got so far was a stolen bicycle. The boring job only had her remembering more easily, with all the spare time she had. Hell, she never thought she'd miss the crazy stunts Jane pulled that ended with her filling a lot more paperwork than initially planned. But she did, badly. Then her mind would drift to thoughts of him and that last phone call. Her life was still centered on Jane, even with him gone forever. She always knew he would be her downfall, but she was far from imagining it would be like this. She was in a bad place, and she had no damn idea how she would pull herself out of it this time.

Then his first letter arrived.

To say she had been surprised to see Samantha Barsocky on her doorstep in Washington, on a late Saturday afternoon, was an understatement. Of course she remembered her, but had only encountered her twice, with Jane. The first time was for a case involving Jane's brother in law Danny; the second time wasn't too long ago, to bring baby Caitlyn back to her family. They had been grateful for her help, and she believed they now regarded her more as a good friend of Jane's than a government cop. Yet why would one of his carnie friends want to see her?

"Hi," Lisbon said, confused. "Can I help you?"

The woman firmly looked at her, and then stepped inside her house without permission. As odd as Lisbon found her behavior, she didn't comment, instead shutting the door behind her and heading to the living room. She was fairly certain now that she was here because of Jane. She gulped and tried to push down the anxiousness that was building in her chest. _Please let it not be bad news_, she prayed.

Sam scanned her from head to toe, making her feel uncomfortable, before her scrutinizing eyes bore into hers, as if searching for something.

"Patrick sent me here," she said in her African American accent, confirming Lisbon's suspicions.

Even though she had guessed the why to Sam's presence, the confirmation still had her pulse quicken. She breathed in a sigh of relief. _He was fine, he made it. Thank God._

Sam continued. "He sent me a package, with instructions and a note to give these to you." She pulled out an envelope with _Lisbon_ scrawled on it in Patrick Jane's handwriting. Sam also searched in her bag for the other object, a sea shell. It didn't go unnoticed by her how Lisbon took them hesitantly but with care. She lightly traced her name with her thumb, as if assuring herself it was real. She didn't bother hiding the emotions the two items she was holding stirred in her; her eyes had filled with tears and she wasn't quite ready to speak yet.

"You'll have to buy a burner phone. Once you do, call this number." Sam handed her a folded post-it. "We'll be able to contact you when we'll receive his letters. Pete and I will take turns handing them to you, in different given locations of course."

Lisbon nodded, blinking away the tears. After a pause, Sam added, "You must mean a lot to him if he's willing to risk his cover to send you letters." She gave her a knowing look, before heading back towards the entrance door.

Lisbon cleared her throat and quickly composed herself. "Thank you."

The black woman nodded, and then she was gone. Lisbon closed the door behind her, before leaning back against it and closing her eyes at the wave of relief that engulfed her right now. He had sent her a letter. He must've guessed how anxious she'd be, she figured.

She walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. She didn't know what to expect from Jane with this letter. Was he even going to mention the last words they had exchanged during that faithful phone call? She was slightly nervous, which was silly, she thought.

She first examined the shell and its many elegant brown spots, rubbing the cool and soft surface with her fingers before bringing it to her ear to listen to the ocean. She found the echoes of the waves that had once crashed against it comforting, and closed her eyes. An image struck to her, one of Jane on that beach several months ago, the wind blowing in his face and his hair reflecting bronze with the last rays of sunshine. _You have no idea what you've meant to me, what you mean to me._

She sighed, putting the shell down. She hadn't known then but she did know now. Maybe she would've been better off not knowing, maybe moving on would've been easier in this damned situation. But her feelings had been reciprocated; it hadn't been a one-sided love like she had feared for so long. He loved her too, and that thought would be enough to keep her hoping about a better future. With newfound courage she reached for the letter.

If Sam had been correct, he would send her other ones.

She would be alright.

* * *

Of course she had tried to move on.

Not only for Jane but for herself.

She wanted to be in control of her life again. She was too dependent on Jane's letters, which arrived once a month; twice when she was lucky. She couldn't continue living like this, because not only was it unhealthy, but she wasn't getting any younger. She dreaded spending the rest of her life alone, surrounded by a dozen cats - she was a dog person though. That thought once made her laugh, but now had her shivering as it was a very real possibility, with the rate in which she was moving on. Having kids was too late for her now, but she still wanted to go home to a waiting someone and feel safe, cherished and loved.

So when a random guy she had bumped into at the grocery store had asked her out, she had accepted; but not without some slight hesitation. It had only lasted a month, abruptly ending because he - Mike was his name - had accused her of being too secretive. She hadn't expected that one, so it had been a real blow in the face; but she had been so accustomed to Jane reading her mind like an open book these last eight years that she had partially forgotten how to properly open up to someone.

There had been others after Mike: some one night stands, too, but nothing that had lasted more than a couple of weeks.

Then she met Josh, more than a year after Jane's departure. Josh Henderson was the owner of a local coffee shop she often went over to, because their coffee was excellent and the pancakes were the best ones she'd ever tasted. Josh had noticed her being a regular client, and so had gone to introduce himself. Since then he would usually come by her booth and sit across from her to talk. Conversations flowed easily between them, and spending time with him always enlightened her days; Josh was kind, funny, good looking, and a very bad liar. She found that last criteria and his straight-forwardness very attractive. So when he found the courage to ask her out, she accepted, as if it were the most natural thing to do.

Faith was cruel, though, as that very same day she received a letter from Jane.

She wasn't so sure dating Josh was a good idea anymore. She felt like she was betraying Jane in some way, and the thought was disturbing. It probably had to do with how she wanted this relationship to work this time.

Josh was the type of man that was strong, dependable, and safe; exactly what she told herself she needed. Exactly what Jane wasn't. She made the effort to open up this time around; and he would always listen, compassionate and understanding, when she would share details about her days back at the CBI. And of course, talking about the CBI meant talking about Patrick Jane. It was inevitable. So she did, had told his story and how he had come to kill one of the most vicious serial killers of the decade. He didn't ask too many questions about him after that, to her great relief. As far as he knew, they had been close friends.

Things with Josh were nice and easy; and so the weeks turned into months. But she found that time couldn't heal all the wounds. She still thought about Jane, too often for someone who was in a relationship with another man; and still treasured his arriving letters more than she should. So maybe she hadn't completely moved on; but at least she was trying.

Life was comfortable. With Josh she had the stability she had been looking for so long. They had their routines. And when she would come home, he would be waiting for her on the couch, standing up to greet her with a kiss. She was happier than she'd been since Jane's departure more than a year ago now. She was satisfied, and didn't feel lonely anymore.

She presented him to Rigsby and Van Pelt when they came by to visit her. That was a big step she had taken in their relationship, and even though he could never really understand the significance of it, he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.  
She felt like this was what Jane would have wanted for her. And Grace and Wayne seemed to approve of Josh... He was a good man, no doubt.

* * *

It was six months today since their first date, and they were going to celebrate that. She was wearing a fitted black dress for the occasion, as they were heading to someplace fancy for dinner, cloth napkin and everything. Josh hadn't wanted to do things by halves, even though she had insisted that a late night picnic someplace nice would have sufficed.

He complimented her when he saw her, said she looked beautiful, and she shushed him playfully to try and hide her embarrassment. But during the car drive she couldn't help but notice he looked nervous, which only had the aggravating effect of making her feel nervous as well.

Dinner went by smoothly as they made small talk in between bites of the succulent food. It was once they both finished their crème brûlées when Josh's expression suddenly turned grave. His eyes bore into hers, and she had to will herself not to look away from the intensity they held. Any woman would've been flattered to have a man look at her like that; but it made her anxious more than anything else. He reached out for her hands, and she let him take them, not without some apprehension.

"I know when something's real," he started, his eyes never leaving hers, "and I feel that way about us." He paused, lowering his head, before meeting her gaze once more. "Do you? Feel that way, about us?"

_Oh God._ Her heart started beating wildly in her chest, and she could only hope he hadn't noticed how her palms had started to sweat. She suddenly found that she didn't quite like straight-forwardness so much anymore.  
She took a couple of seconds to steady herself before answering, "Yes, I do."

He smiled, oblivious to her slight hesitation, then leaned over the table. "Look, one thing I do know is that when you feel that way about someone, you have to hang on. Because it doesn't happen very often."

She felt sick, suddenly regretting taking that crème brûlée. She knew what was coming, the big one, and was in no way ready for it. She had to stop him right now.

"Josh..."

"Let me finish," he silenced her softly, squeezing her hands. "I'm not getting any younger. You're a wonderful woman, the woman I can see myself growing old with. I love you, Teresa."

_He loved her._ She should've expected that after six months spent together. But she hadn't, or perhaps hadn't wanted to look too deeply. Hadn't wanted to know.

One thing was blatantly clear: she wasn't ready for what was going to come up next. Not at all. But this was Josh, a man she trusted who could make her happy. A man she could learn to love with time. And it _had_ been six months. Wasn't it about time she took that last step towards him?

It would mean giving herself entirely to this man.

But it would also mean letting Patrick go.

Her eyes filled with tears threatening to spill, but not for the reason that encouraged Josh to get up, bend down on one knee, pull the goddamned ring out of his pocket and ask, "Will you marry me?"

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry to leave you guys hanging like this, but I couldn't resist finishing this on a cliff hanger... Please review if you liked this, I really appreciate it when people take a little of their time to leave a message to say what they thought about the chapter. They make my day!**

**Till the next time... Thank you for reading.**


	4. High Hopes

**A/N: This chapter is inspired by Kodaline's song _High Hopes_. I've inserted a lot of the song's lyrics here and there.**

**I feel terrible for not updating this sooner; a month and a day now since chapter 3. But a lot of things have happened this past month and I owe you some explanations: I had my exams, driver's licence, the wait for exam results, and the extraction of my wisdom teeth two days ago). But here's an even longer chapter than the last time to make it up to you guys...**

**I really want to thank you all for the great response I received for chapter 3, and can only hope that some people are still following this!**

**Replies to guest reviews:**

**Guest 1: I'm touched you kept on checking for an update, it reminds me of myself before I created an account. I'm so sorry for the wait though... Yes, doesn't this Josh ring a bell? I'm flattered I got you to read all the paragraphs - there will be a lot of those in this chapter too. **I'm glad you're enjoying this story, your reviews are always a pleasure to read!****

****Guest 2: I'm happy you liked the letter!****

**AliahMPS: Thanks for your luck, and it was efficient since I passed with honors :) I'm happy to learn you're still enjoying this!**

**Reader: I know, it was the perfect occasion for a cliff hanger. If you're still following this, I'd be curious to know your speculations. What did you think she would answer? I'm happy you like this so far, and hope this chapter will reach up to your expectations!**

**Guest 3: Thank you!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own the Mentalist characters nor the lyrics of "High Hopes" by Kodaline that can be recognized in various paragraphs of this chapter.**

* * *

"Alguien ha preguntado por mí?"

He hated how alone and vulnerable he sounded every time he asked the question.

Or how his heart sank every time the woman answered him, "No. No, nunca."

"Bien." He would put on a dazzling smile to try to seem unaffected by her usual reply, before wishing the two women at the post office a good day.

Who was he kidding? Even though they didn't have his IQ, they had long guessed his letters were destined to a woman in the US, and that he was hopping she'd come to join him here someday. Their separation and the reason he was here in South America still remained a mystery to the two women though, and would be something they'd idly wonder about.

He was a mess; a fool who contradicted himself. Hadn't he been the one to encourage Lisbon to move on, to not wait for him? He had basically written on that first letter that he was probably not coming back; of course she would go on with her life. She would do what was best for her, now that he wasn't her number one priority anymore. And as much as that thought pained him, he accepted that. He knew he had taken the right decision.

It didn't stop him from hoping to see her again. He'd spent almost a decade memorizing her every expression; he even knew how her face felt like when she smiled. But he hadn't actually envisioned using those memories safely kept in a room in his memory palace to have something to hold on to when she wouldn't be a part of his life anymore. Back in the CBI days, on the rare times he had allowed himself to imagine a future without Red John nor his death in the process of finding him, she'd always be there by his side. Then he would soon shut the thoughts out, as he hadn't been ready to fully acknowledge their meaning. He knew he loved her, he had for a while. Red John had even figured it out, which was why he had wanted to kill her. What had scarred him was the possibility to move on in a near future, because it so happened that she loved him too. He hadn't thought that he deserved to hope for it, as the initial plan had been to die alongside his revenge.

But once the dragon had been strangled, and his evil left starring at the barrel of the gun in his hand, he found that he couldn't pull the trigger.

_I think you'd choose life._

_Can't you see there are people who care about you? Who need you? You're being selfish and childish and I want you to stop it._

He couldn't do it, because she was right: he didn't _want_ to choose death. But mostly he couldn't bare the idea of Lisbon discovering his lifeless body, his head exploded and his brains scattered on the park grass. He couldn't do that to her; he'd hurt her too many times in the past, but _that_, that would destroy her.

So he had slowly and with a shaking hand lowered the gun and placed it in McAllister's cold fingers, before calling her. He knew he had to run away to someplace far, preferably a country where the Feds couldn't touch him. Staying here meant imprisonment, and he wouldn't stand being clamed between three walls and prison grills for many probable years to come. And she didn't deserve to be tied to a detainee.

He told her he loved her, because it was the truth, because he had finally come to this, because she deserved to hear it, but mostly because he might never have the occasion to say it to her again.

And he used the three words again, one last time, on the first letter he wrote to her; to reassure her that he had truly meant it, but also as a way of letting her go. Now that she knew, she had the closure she needed to start a new chapter.

He headed at the bar on the beach, and repressed a shudder at the sight of Roger's lonely figure sitting at the same spot as always, a scary reminder of how he would probably end up here: miserable and alone, the grief eating him up inside. It was only a matter of years now before the solitude got the best of him, he mused.

He greeted Alfredo as he sat a couple of seats away from Roger, and asked for a whisky. Tea just wouldn't do right now. He needed something stronger.

He grabbed the glass. _A year and nine months now_, he thought bitterly. He then took a swing of the alcohol before putting the glass down. He stared at his left hand holding it and at his now bare ring finger, the sun having long erased any trace on his skin of the wedding band he had worn for so long. His ring now rested in a small jewelry box on his bedside stand. It had first represented his love for Angela, before binding him to his quest for revenge, a cruel reminder of what he had lost. But now it no longer felt appropriate to wear it, when revenge had been accomplished and thoughts of a different woman consumed his mind.

He was incapable of doing just what he told her to do in the letter: moving on, that was. Only she could help him with that. Of course he had more than once considered asking her to join him on the island. Especially on his worst days, when the accumulated feelings of loneliness and misery were too much to bare.

He could never bring himself to write the words on paper, though. Or if he did, and it was usually after he had taken too many drinks, he'd tear the paper the next morning. Not that he was afraid of being rejected - well, there was that. But he liked to think that if he asked, she would come. The main reason was that she deserved so much better than to be tied to a fugitive and broken man. And he had nothing to offer her here. Yet he would give anything to have her by his side.

He couldn't help having that small part of him hoping Lisbon had found a way to join him here; it was that small hope he carried inside that pushed him to ask the two women if someone was looking for him every time he posted a letter. He knew it was pointless, though. He knew Lisbon well enough to know that she wouldn't come if he didn't ask. And given that was out of the question...

It seemed like this island, his shelter from the FBI, would also be his doom: there weren't many things he could do to distract him from the sad and cruel place that was his mind. Which was why he needed the whisky.

He took another swing, a bitter thought for the lucky bastard that was probably in Teresa's company right now.

* * *

It was as if everything was playing in slow motion for only her eyes to see.

Josh letting go of her hands to stand up in front of her. Bending down on one knee. Pulling a small ring box out of his suit jacket, and opening it, revealing a golden band adorned with many sparkling diamonds.

"Will you marry me?"

At that point she was shaking, as all heads had turned towards them, eager eyes waiting for the three letter confirmation to come out of her mouth.

She was utterly and completely lost. First he drops the "L" bomb on her, then asks her to marry him. And she only had a couple of seconds to digest all of that. She started panicking. This was it, her chance to move on, to rebuild her life completely. She didn't love Josh, but could see herself working toward it. If she said yes, it would mean finally letting go of her past, of Jane, once and for all. She knew that was the logical decision to make.

But did she want to leave the best and worst part of her life behind, for good?

Josh must've read her doe-caught-in-the-headlights expression, as he smiled, took her left hand in his and whispered tenderly, "Don't freak out. But I love you and I want to be a part of your life, permanently."

She took a shaking breath, her eyes never leaving his reassuring ones, and opened her mouth to answer his "I love you". But nothing came out.

Her thoughts went to Jane...

...And she knew in that instant that she couldn't tell Josh yes. She couldn't do it, couldn't pretend to love him while waiting for it to be true someday. So she squeezed his hand in hers like he had previously done, and shook her head. With a shaking voice told him how sorry she was, how she wished she could say yes. A couple of tears escaped from her eyes, and she could only watch as Josh's smile evaporated.

"Why?" he asked, voicing his incomprehension as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong.

"I don't love you," she replied in a strangled voice. She read the full betrayal and hurt in his eyes, and she hated herself for being the reason to it. But she mostly hated herself for stringing him along for so long. It would've been unfair to settle for him, when she had been his first choice. "I'm so sorry," she said lamely, while letting go of his hand.

In the end she walked out of the building in a quick step, ignoring the stares of the other clients burning her back and the whispers erupting in all corners of the room.

As she stepped out into the night light, she found herself feeling lighter, freer; but her heart had never felt so heavy.

* * *

The crackling coming from the fireplace was a comforting sound she'd grown fond of. The warmth of the fire seeped through her skin, warming her up. It also helped to enlighten her spirit after a rough day - not that the cases she got here were even as remotely close to the brain wrecking ones she faced back at the CBI. No, rough days solely rested on the level of emotional wreck she was feeling.

Abbott's visit the other day had opened up wounds of painful memories from a time that was both dark and light. And she'd started worrying again. The man knew something, that had been blatantly clear with his smug smiles every time she lied to him about her _"boyfriend"_. And she had no way to warn Jane. Again she felt like the situation was over her head, and that she, a small town sheriff, could do absolutely nothing about it but wait patiently for the outcome. She hated it, she hated this town and this new life. She felt trapped.

She had lied to Wayne and Grace earlier, for their sake, because she knew they worried about her. _"I used to miss it but not anymore. Everything here's good. You know, it's just good,"_ she had told Wayne, a little tipsy from the whine. What could she say? Certainly not that her heart clenched every time one of them called her _"boss"_. Or that she was incapable of moving on like they had, like Jane wanted her to. Well, they had figured that part on their own after she'd run away from the restaurant with Josh in it three months ago. They had been disappointed: Josh had been a good man. Grace had asked what had happened on the phone, and Lisbon had been grateful the redhead couldn't see the tears threatening to spill as she told her about the proposal. Grace had understood, of course, and the next time they'd seen each other she had given her a long and warm hug, whispering "Everything will work out in the end, you'll see."

She wished she could believe her.

She was scared of never feeling it again with someone else; the cheerfulness and lightheartedness that had always come with Patrick Jane. Of course, not all had been bright, with his closet full of skeletons. But she had never felt happier than the times she had been with him.

She knew it was crazy to believe in silly things, to believe that she might never be happy again, but it wasn't that easy. With Josh it had been time to let it all go, to go out and start again - and look where it had brought her.

She sat down on her couch, the glass of wine held firmly in her right hand. _Two years now_; she needed the alcohol. Her left hand was busy pulling out the very first letter Jane had sent her from the box. It was by far the most wrinkled one of them all, showing just how many times she had held it in her hands. She probably knew it by heart now, which was a disturbing thought she wasn't willing to admit. But as pathetic and childish as it sounded, it was the only letter he had finished with an _I love you_.

Two years after Jane left, and here she was, alone on her couch, spending her evenings reading his letters again and drinking wine. So this was what she had reduced herself to. It was hard to remember that she had once held high hopes for the future, even in the darkest of times. But it had all come to an end after he had hung up on that last phone call. The hardest part in all of this mess though, was that the world still kept spinning around.

* * *

He slept better on the island. He didn't sleep through the whole night, but managed more than the couple of hours he had once allowed himself as an insomniac. And he had found he was capable of dreaming again.

His dreams were the perfect way to remember certain memories he had forgotten he kept buried in his memory palace. In his dreams he could make the ghosts of all the people who have come and gone. Happier memories of Angela and Charlotte resurfaced, a clean break from all the nightmares he had had when Red John was still haunting him.

Teresa Lisbon was a recurring character in his dreams too, with memories that seemed to show up so quick, but leave far too soon. They took him back to when it had all first started; from the happier moments shared together to he times he had hurt her. He only had himself to blame, but he accepted that now. The letters were a good way to redeem himself, an opportunity to apologize for all the times he simply hadn't taken the time to.

That night he dreamt about the day he left her on the beach. The words he told her back then had been genuine. _"You have no idea how much you've meant to me. How much you mean to me."_ But it had still been a trick in the end to get a hold of her cell phone and leave her there.

He made sure to apologize on his letter due to send that day.

* * *

When Franklin had warned him that very same day that the FBI was looking for him, his first reaction had been surprise. He knew they would find him someday, but hadn't expected it to be so soon, with only a two year gap since his fugue. There was no point in running away now though, especially when he had no reason to. The country's laws protected him. They couldn't arrest him.

_This ought to be interesting_, he thought as he walked to Abbott's table.

"Abbott. How the heck are you?" he greeted him.

Abbott stopped typing on the document he was working on, and chuckled at the sight of the infamous Patrick Jane as he sat up straighter in his chair. "And here we thought we were going to have to turn over every rock on this island to find you."

Jane sat down in front of him. "Heard you were here. It was only polite to stop by and say hi."

"Hm."

Jane couldn't help the smirk on his face as he added, "Oh, how was the flight?"

"Bumpy," the other man replied simply. Truth be told his back had paid hell during the trip, as he had been hunched against the window. Jane's eyes held a mocking gleam in them that only meant he knew about his suffering. Abbott let it slide and leaned forward. "Pretty confident of you to front out like this."

"The extradition laws are on my side, I know you can't touch me," Jane replied coolly.

"Who said I wanted to touch you? I'm here to make you an offer."

"Oh." Jane's expression turned to guarded and impassible, but he nodded for him to continue.

"It seems like the higher ups think that you could be valuable to the FBI. The Bureau is willing to drop all the charges against you if you come and work for us," Abbott informed him, keeping his tone of voice neutral, even though the disapproval he tried to contain was omnipresent.

"The FBI," Jane repeated.

"That's right."

After a couple of seconds of heavy silence with both men observing each other, Jane cleared his throat. "Interesting proposition. I'm not buying it."

"No?" He asked, skeptical. "This is a good deal Jane, you really should consider it."

Jane narrowed his eyes. Did this man really think it would take so little to have him on board with the FBI? Did they think he'd be that willing to cooperate after what they've done? "I am done with that life. I did what I had to do, and I've moved on." But even the lie felt sour on his tongue.

"Is that so?" Abbott said raising his eyebrows, catching the hook. He had a knowing gleam in his eyes. "That life was a job that you were very good at. If you come back you can help a lot of people. You have a gift."

"It's not a gift," Jane spat.

"Whatever it is, it'll take you off this island and you can start your life again."

"I have, thank you," he replied coldly, masking easily the lie.

"If you say so. But I know someone who might be disappointed to hear that," Abbott finished, the gleam in his eyes back again as he smirked.

He knew something. And Jane hated not being the one in control of the conversation right now, when it should be the other way around.

"How'd you find me?" Jane asked suddenly, even though he had pretty much guessed the answer to that question.

Abbott smiled. "Your letters to your girlfriend Lisbon. It was pretty clever to send them to your carnie friends and have them sneak them over to her. Just not quite smart enough."

"She isn't my girlfriend," he corrected him, his eyes never leaving his.

"Ah. So you love her in a purely platonic way then?"

"Where are you going with this?" Jane sighed, tired of all this beating around the bush. He wasn't planning on revealing anything running on those personal grounds. But it was obvious Abbott knew more than he had given him credit for.

"I'm merely stating the fact that your little interaction during that last phone call only made things clearer as to where you both standed regarding your feelings for one another. There's no point in lying to me, Jane," he replied slowly, a crooked smile on his face at Jane's stony features.

He explained. "All of the members of the Serious Crimes unit were closely watched by our men the last couple of months preceding Red John's murder. Of course, Lisbon's phone was monitored. All her conversations were recorded. It wasn't hard to retrace the one you both had during Agent Mallows' absence. Of course, we were hoping that you'd reveal a clue regarding the location you were planning on heading to for hideout. But in the end you revealed something else entirely."

Jane glared at Abbott, his jaw clenched, but didn't interrupt. After a pause, Abbott finished, "That's why our deal also includes offering Lisbon a job at the FBI. She'd be a valuable asset, and we also figured you'd be more inclined to accept if you had her with you, as a part of the team we assembled for you."

Abbott then closed his tablet and slid it in his bag, before standing up. "I'll be here for another day if you change your mind," he said, as Jane's eyes met his one last time before focusing on a distant point, lost in thought. Abbott left him at the table, and after turning around without so much as backward glance, he couldn't help the triumphant smile forming on his lips.

He'd revealed the conman's con.

He had won. It was only a matter of time before Patrick Jane reached out for him again to accept his offer.

After all, there was nothing more powerful than playing with the high hopes of a man.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter will be the reunion. If some of you have any ideas as to how I can prolong this story, then please be my guest and share them on a review or a PM! But I'm pretty certain chapter 5 will be the last one.**

**Again, this chapter is inspired by _High Hopes_ from Kodaline; I'd recommend to those who don't know it to go check it out - great song and lyrics.**

**Reviews are very much appreciated! Thank you for reading.**


	5. This day has finally come (We're here)

**A/N: This is the final chapter of this story, and I'm relieved I got to finish it. I've had a huge writer's block because I just didn't know _how_ to end this. My initial idea just didn't stick, so I had to rethink it.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter (I really am nervous about the response it'll get, because, well, it's the last one and I wouldn't want it to ruin the 4 previous chapters). It also means that this'll be the last time you'll get such a long delay for its update!**

**Replies to guest reviews:**

**\- Guest: I certainly am not the best - see how long it took for this update? But thank you for the compliment and I'm glad you love this story! Thank you for your kind words.**

**\- Reader: Thank you for your review, it always is a pleasure to hear from you! Unfortunately I'm starting university, so I won't be able to prolong this - time has been shorter then I had planned! Thank you for your idea, though, it would've been fun to explore! Oh and I got to correct those typos, so I have to thank you for that too.**

**\- Guest 1: Abbott is also one of my favorite characters now, too, he is hilarious in a subtile way! You'll see I added a small scene where he seems to be a little more compassionate - I couldn't keep him mean for very long. Thanks again for all your reviews, I'm touched you followed this since the ****beginning!**

**Disclaimer: Do we really have to go through this? Fine. I don't own the Mentalist. I also don't own the lyrics of the song that are under the line right there.**

* * *

_If I can find my way home, will you take hold of me?_

_'Cause I've been gone so long, I can barely say_  
_All I know is now I want to stay._

_Has it been too long_

_Since I went away?_

_Cause I'm trying to find the words,_

_But I can barely say._

** \- The Fray, ****_I Can Barely Say_**

* * *

After he lowered his head and stepped out of the small plane, he took a second to stop and take a deep breath. The air wasn't as pure as in South America, it was a touch more polluted. And the lives of the Americans living in the United States were much more fast-paced, to the rhythm of their jobs. He also knew that the island's landscape had nothing to envy Texas'.

But Lisbon was here, and it was enough to weight out all of the negative points.

_He was home._

* * *

"Lisbon."

She turned around, noticing Cho for the first time as he stood up from his chair.

"Cho," she said in surprise, before smiling genuinely. She walked towards him, as he took a couple of steps forward.  
"Look at you," she said in wonder, scanning him from head to toes, taking in his neatly dry-cleaned and expensive-looking suit. "An FBI Agent. I should've known you'd end up here."

It had been a year since the last time she heard from him. Now she knew just what he had been up to, and she couldn't help but feel pride growing in her chest at seeing what her once second in command had accomplished for himself. So she hugged him and let him know how happy she was for him by whispering, "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," he replied simply as they released each other. He hadn't changed one bit, with his always composed expression and neutral voice. She realized at that moment how much she had missed him.

"I finished training at Quantico five months ago," he informed her. "Don't know if they'll make you go through it, though, since you've been Senior Agent for many years at the CBI."

She didn't think she heard correctly. It was most probably a mistake. "Wait. Training? Why would they-"

Cho raised his eyebrows. "They didn't tell you why you're here?"

Her heart jumped in her chest. They had told her through the phone that Jane was coming back and that they wanted her there, all transportation charges on their behalf. But they hadn't said why. And she hadn't asked; with the buzzing in her ears at the news, she'd had a hard time focusing on the woman's - Agent Fisher she believed - next words, or answering while trying to keep the tremor in her voice at bay. She had hung up with a shaking hand, and was sure all the color had been drained from her face.

She shook her head. "No, they didn't," she replied carefully.

"The reason why Jane accepted to come back on the US soil was because they'd offer you a job at the FBI," he said, looking at her carefully.

She froze, taken aback by the revelation. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it as nothing came out. But her initial shock was soon replaced by warmth seeping through her veins; this was a typical Jane gesture. She had lost her job at the CBI after the Red John mess, and he wanted to make it up to her.

"Follow me," Cho said, breaking her train of thought. They climbed up the stairs and as they headed towards the hallway, she took in her surroundings. The building was big, cold and impersonal; nothing like the sheriff's office she had back in Cannon River. But it also held the image of grandeur and accomplishment she had imagined it would.

She had always seen herself either ending up director of the CBI or Agent for the FBI before signing up with Patrick Jane; she'd once been ambitious. But given the amount of trouble he caused, she knew after several weeks working with him that her CV would pay the price. So she had ended up solely focusing on two tasks: catching the killers and keeping Jane out of trouble. Her days were full and it was enough; she enjoyed her job and loved her team. And she knew Jane had made her a better cop, despite his less than religious methods. But it was ironic now that he, of all people, was giving her the opportunity to fulfill one of her old dreams.

Cho opened a door to her left, revealing what seemed to be like a small conference room with its circular table and leather chairs.

She stepped in, quickly scanning the room with her eyes, before turning around. "So, Jane with the FBI, huh."

"Yeah," he scoffed. They both knew what that would lead to. He'd be able to cause trouble on a national scale - of course he'd take advantage of the change of situation.

After a couple of seconds of silence, Cho spoke up. "He'll be here soon," he said simply, letting a brief smile cross his face.

"Okay," she smiled back, crinkling her nose; a tic she hadn't gotten rid of after all these years. Even after the countless times Jane had commented on it. _It's adorable_, he has once said, in a tone that was both teasing and affectionate.

With that he closed the door behind her, not without a nod of encouragement. So she hadn't been as good as she thought she had at hiding her nerves. _Dammit._

She stood there, anxiously twisting her hands. Jane would be here any minute now; and after two years of absence, she still had a hard time wrapping her head around the news. Her heart was beating faster than its usual rhythm, causing her hands to sweat. She both longed and dreaded for the door to open. She was terrified because she had no idea how to react when she'd see the man who had said and written _I love you_ to her almost two years ago. And what should she expect from him? Would he pretend the words had never been uttered, for the second time? Despite that he had written that he wasn't going to take it back.

On another hand, they had been separated for two years. She had changed, and he probably had, too. He'd had all the time in the world to think, and she had no idea what conclusions he had drawn, which direction he wanted to take.

Patrick Jane wasn't even back yet, and here he was already causing her headaches, she thought sarcastically.

But it was useless to keep wondering, keep guessing for something that was yet to take place. So with a sigh, she went for the first chair in her reach and sat down, her back facing the door.

And she did exactly what she's been doing for ten years now: she waited for him.

* * *

"Second door on the left."

After glancing at Cho one last time, Jane headed towards the indicated door. His body was in overheat due to his racing heart, so he undid two buttons of his shirt to avoid suffocation. He swallowed, fighting to regain composure. He cursed himself for feeling so weak; but it had been two years since he had last seen her, and he had no idea what he was going to find behind that door. Would he find her changed? Had she moved on? Because he couldn't ignore the possibility that she had come all this way only to tell him that she couldn't stay here with him, in Austen, and that her boyfriend was waiting for her back home. And he didn't think he would have the strength to keep his mask on if she wore a band on her ring finger. Nor face the pity that would be evidently there in her eyes.

He knew he was stalling; but having the moment he's been desperately hoping for for two years at arm's reach was unbearably nerve wrecking.

_But I know someone who might be disappointed to hear that._

_Your letters to your girlfriend Lisbon.  
_  
Abbott's voice echoed in his head from their head to head conversation back on the island. And they gave him the ounce of courage he needed to grab the door handle. Those two sentences implied that Lisbon hadn't moved on. He knew it could've been a trick from the man, but he selfishly wanted to believe the words were true.

With newfound hope, he took a deep breath and opened the door. He had to know if he still had something to live for.

* * *

"Cho just escorted Jane to the conference room," Fisher informed Abbott, standing at the door of his office.

"Ok," he replied, drawing his focus back to the paperwork he had to fill. But seeing as the agent hadn't left, he raised his eyebrows, peering at her from the top of his glasses. "Will that be all?"

"Shouldn't we go make them sign the contracts?" she asked, voicing her incomprehension at his lack of reaction.

Abbott smiled knowingly. "Let's give them some time alone. They're not going anywhere."

"Yes, sir," Fisher replied, raising her eyebrows but walking away nonetheless.

He watched her leave, shaking his head in amusement before turning his attention once again to the stack of paperwork waiting to be filled.

* * *

He took a second to persuade himself that he was really and truly seeing Teresa Lisbon again - well, her back.

"Hey." His voice came out hoarse, but it was enough to make the woman in front of him jump in surprise. He hadn't even noticed he was grinning until his eyes finally met hers as she turned around and stood up.

"Hello," she answered back, her voice soft and hesitant. She hadn't prepared herself at how affected she'd be at seeing him again. Nor remembered how contagious his 1000 Watt smiles were as she found herself instantly grinning back at him, her previous worries pushed at the back of her mind.

They both stepped forward, closer, both _stunned_ and _thrilled _to see each other again after all this time. They hadn't truly smiled in a while, and it felt _good_.

He hadn't changed much, she decided, except for the stubble he had let grow, and one or two lines around his eyes that she didn't remember being there two years ago. But they only enhanced his bright smile - and _oh_, she had missed his smiles.

"Nice beard," Lisbon teased.

Jane's smile grew impossibly, and his eyes twinkled in response to the warmth that spread in his chest. He had missed their easy banters that had once paced their friendship.

"Thank you," he replied as if it had been a real compliment, and he could see the laughter in her eyes.

Jane seemed to scan every millimeter of her face, his gaze intense. "Oh, I missed you."

And with that he took her in his arms, because it had been _two years_, and she was _right there_.

_She smelled like cinnamon and coffee and home._

She held him just as tightly, closing her eyes as Jane rocked her gently from right to left.

"I missed you too," she sighed against his shoulder, the sound muffled but still clear enough for Jane to hear.

Then, she pulled away.

"You're an idiot for risking coming back on US soil just so the FBI could offer me a job," she pointed out, frowning at him disapprovingly. "You do realize it could've been a trap?"

He shrugged as if it was an insignificant detail. "I was willing to take the risk."

"Well, _I_ wasn't. How do you think I would've felt knowing you were in _prison_, Jane?" she scolded, hurt evident in her voice. "And don't insult both our intelligences by saying it would've been alright. You would've been miserable in there."

Of course he would have, with no way to exercise his mind. But the island back in South America had been turning into one, too. Boredom and loneliness were psychologically just as dreadful.

He wanted to tell her that he was just as miserable during the last couple of years, without her presence to keep him entertained. But one look at her sorrowful expression makes him stop. And he's dreading the next words that'll come out of his mouth, has been planning to push them away until he can't anymore, but he has to know _why_ she's here.

"Teresa." Her name came out firm and soft at the same time, to catch her attention and make her listen to him. And it worked, seen as how she jerked her head up to meet his eyes at his employment of her first name. "I didn't come back just so the FBI could offer you a job. I came back for purely selfish reasons." He glanced down at her almost shyly. He continued, trying to keep his voice at the same level. "But I know that I'm maybe too late. You can refuse the offer, I'll understand."

He would. And he would do his very best to smile and be happy for her, because there'd surely be a reason to walk away from the opportunity - or rather a _someone_. She'd probably see through the front - _after all, she knew him best_ \- but would keep on pretending he actually meant it. It'd be much simpler that way, for both of them.

"I'm not going to refuse the job."

There. She had said it and he now knew where she stood. It was much more than accepting a job offer; it meant that no matter the time or the place, no matter how mad she was at him or the years that had separated them, she would always come to him. Had he really expected her to push him away _now_?

And yet he was looking at her intensely, slightly dazed and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"We're partners, remember?" she added lightly.

"Never forgot," he replied, smiling at her like she had given him the best gift possible.

And she smiled back. Then after a slight pause, her gaze softened, her expression intense. "I never got to thank you for the letters," she said tenderly.

He looked at her, really did in that moment; the first time in two years. He tried to decipher the emotions shinning in her green eyes. There was affection. Relief. Happiness. Apprehension. Love.

"You kept them, didn't you?" he asked carefully, even though he thought he knew the answer to that. Still, he couldn't be sure.

"Of course I did," she answered simply, her voice steady; but her eyes betrayed her. She knew he could now see how unhealthily dependent she had become of his monthly letters. True, they had helped her go through the hardest days when she missed him too much, but they had also sealed her faith; Josh had paid the consequences.

All of a sudden, Jane took a couple of steps towards the door and closed it.

"Jane?" Lisbon watched him wearily as he came back to her.

"You didn't move on." It wasn't a question, just a fact waiting to be confirmed.

She swallowed. "I tried." Her eyes briefly met his before looking away, then switching back to him.

He read the pain and heartbreak she wished she could conceal from him. "How far?" he breathed.

"He…proposed," she admitted, her eyes sad.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. And he was. He had never wanted her to go through that kind of pain.

"It doesn't matter anymore," she replied. The past couldn't be changed; and he was back now. They wouldn't drown in the guilt and regret of what could've been.

After a heavy silence, Jane cleared his throat. "Lisbon, I…"

He wanted to tell her everything right then and there. Lay out all his cards. He wanted her to know that he had thought of her everyday without fail on the island, and that he'd used the memories of all the good times they'd shared together to get him through his darkest days. That she had been the light at the end of his miserable tunnel; she had been the one that had kept him going, even when he wasn't sure if he'd ever see her again.

But he had no idea _how_.

The words never got to be said, however, as Abbott chose that moment to swing the door open and come into the conference room.

"So, let's get this over with, shall we?" Abbott asked, raising his eyebrows knowingly at seeing Jane and Lisbon's proximity.

"We shall," Jane replied, and couldn't help the tinge of disappointment in his voice.

* * *

Lisbon took the box of letters in her hand, a small smile on her lips at the reminder that Jane was _back_, and that he was waiting for her in Austin. They started work on Monday. Until then, Lisbon had booked the next flight to Washington so she could use the weekend to pack. Jane had proposed to come help her, but she had refused, and he hadn't insisted. It was probably better if they both had a couple of days alone to _think_.

As she was about to place it in the suit case, she paused. She looked at the time, and decided that she could give herself five minutes - she was almost done, anyway. So she pulled out the first letter from the box and sat down on the couch - the last time she did so _here_.

She remembered the first time she had read the letter, sitting on this very couch. Her hands had shook towards the end, tears blurring her eyes. She had re-read it a couple more times, before heading to the kitchen and pulling the bottle of tequila out of the drawer. She wasn't a drinker, had promised herself she never would after her father's funeral - _her brothers and her were still bearing the bruises he had left on them that day_. But she always kept that bottle, had been saving it for years in her drawer back at the CBI, for when the times would be too rough.

And the events that had occurred the last couple of months had been too much for her to handle. The Red John hunt and the CBI being shut down, Jane running away… Too many changes - some for the worst - in such short notice was a lot to take in.

But once she had poured her first portion of the alcohol in a glass, she couldn't help but think about Jane and how he would've disapproved. If he were here, he would've persuaded her not to do it, and in the end she would've listened to him. _But Jane's not here_, she'd thought furiously, angry tears sliding down her cheeks. _He's done plenty stupid. Why can't I?_

_Because he would've know you'd hate yourself in the morning_. The voice in her head had replied.

She'd ended up throwing the content of her glass in the sink, and gone to bed, taking the letter with her to put it on her bedside table.

_I love you,_

Lisbon read, and she couldn't help but ask herself if he still meant it now.

* * *

The weekend went by slowly. Jane felt like he was back on the island, constantly walking around trying to keep himself occupied, a task that wasn't nearly as easy as said.

She was moving for him. And despite her better judgment, she had sacrificed a perfectly stable future with a man that loved her because of him. She could've had a good life with a man that would've taken better care of her than he ever had, and that could've offered her so much more.

He didn't deserve her. He never did. And yet, she was always there, saving him again and again - in every way possible.

He'd had enough time to think, he suddenly decided. If two years and a weekend weren't enough, then he never would be ready. His past had been holding him captive for so long, imprisoning Lisbon in the process. But nothing was weighting down on them now; his revenge had been accomplished and distance wasn't an issue anymore.

He could see how easy it would be to sink into their old habits again. Regain their old comradeship and easy bantering, while trying to ignore the electric pull that was driving them together. But Lisbon wouldn't stand for it very long - and he couldn't blame her. He'd be damned if he lost her because of his own stupidity and cowardice.

Before he had the chance to lose his nerve, he grabbed his phone and dialed Lisbon's cell number, not giving it a second thought. He usually acted on impulse, that was how he worked.

It went to voicemail. He checked the time. 3:45. Ah, she was in the plane.

He decided he wouldn't hang up. He'd go through with the message and see the outcome, because if he didn't say it now, then he might never have the courage to again.

_"This is Lisbon. Leave a message, I'll call you back."_

He cleared his throat. "Lisbon, it's -it's me. Listen, I… This is harder than I thought," he sighed. He'd figured it would've been easier to say it to her phone than in person; but he'd been so very wrong.

He opted for a different tactic. "The truth is that _you_ are the only reason why I came back. Because I missed you and I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life without you by my side."

His voice was hoarse. "The truth is that you are the _single_ most important thing to me, Teresa. And that my feelings haven't changed during these last two years."

He took in a shaky breath. "_I love you_, and I thought you deserved to hear it again."

* * *

Lisbon was waiting for her luggage when she noticed the blinking light on her phone signaling someone had texted her or tried to call her.

_Jane_ was the name displayed on her screen, informing he had tried to contact her. And he had left a message.

Her first instinct was worry - old habits obliged. He used to leave her messages when he had done something out of line and was apologizing, because she'd been too angry to take the phone at the moment. Or when he was worried about her. But surely he couldn't have already been in trouble _before_ starting work. Then again, she _was_ dealing with Patrick Jane.

So she went on her voicemail, not without a tinge of apprehension. But the second she heard this voice projected from her phone against her ear, she knew this was for something else completely. "Lisbon, it's -it's me." His raw voice echoed. "Listen, I… This is harder than I thought."

She tightened her grip around her phone at his distressed tone, and pressed it harder against her ear, her heart pulse accelerating. "The truth is that you are the only reason why I came back. Because I missed you and I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life without you by my side." His shattering voice was enough to break her heart all over again. Tears started blurring her vision, because she knew what he had gone through.

"The truth is that you are the single most important thing to me, Teresa. And that my feelings haven't changed during these last two years." Her eyes were glazed over as she hung to every word he said, every pause and every breath he took. The sensation of tears was burning its way up her throat, but she pursed her lips, trying to keep them at bay.

Her chest tightened as she heard him taking a shaky breath, clearly preparing himself for the next words to come.

"I love you." He said firmly. "And I thought you deserved to hear it again."

And those three words assured her that despite everything that had happened, her heart would be easily pieced back together.

* * *

She saw him waiting for her at the terminal, and didn't repress the smile that was forming on her lips. He hadn't noticed her yet, though, obviously buried in his own thoughts.

He only felt her presence and raised his head once she took the last couple of steps distancing them to stand in front of him.

"Hey," she said softly as she met his eyes.

"Hey," he replied in kind, his eyes scanning her features. Her eyes were slightly red. "Did you get my message?" he asked, hating how vulnerable he secretly felt.

"I did," she replied, looking at him intently.

He took a step closer to her, his expression suddenly serious and intense. "You should know that I meant what I said, every word of it. And that I won't be taking it back, not now, not ever."

She smiled tenderly at him. "I know. And you should know that I feel the same way." Her eyes told him everything he needed to know, but she continued on nonetheless. "I love you too, Patrick," she whispered.

He grinned, happiness and love etched on every line of his face. "Well, that's lucky."

She grinned back at him, her eyes shinning.

With that he took her in his arms and kissed her, slow and deep, as if to seal their words. His left hand stroked her cheek gently while the other pressed against her lower back to keep her close. And she kissed him just as eagerly, her arms locking around his neck - _they had both been waiting for this for a very long time._

Her phone was still gripped tightly in her right hand.

* * *

**A/N: Well, this is it. It's time for me to write "The end" and thank all the fantastic people that have patiently stuck with this story, whether it was by reviewing it or following it, or even favoriting it. So, whoever you are, THANK YOU, and maybe I'll hear more from some of you on future stories I might publish.**

**It's been a nice experience. Thank you for reading!**


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